Fixing our mess
by Willia
Summary: A few months have passed since Fenris left Hawke without any explanation, abandoning him after their first night together. Tonight, Hawke seeks Fenris on a quiet balcony. Maybe it's time they try and fix their mess. (modern AU)


By three in the morning, almost all the guests had left, and the few remaining ones were enjoying the drunken mood inside. Fenris was the only one on the balcony, braving the cold for a chance at a bit of quiet.

The door slid open in a soft shuffling sound, letting through some of the jazzy music, low chatter and warm air flood briefly through Fenris. He shivered when the door slid back, taking the warmth with it. Playing with the string of his hoodie, he risked a glance sideways.

Hawke.

Shit.

Fenris felt his shoulders tense in spite of himself. Hawke and him had been around each other since he– since he'd left, they'd been in the same social circles, even had a few casual group conversations, but this – standing next to each other in silence, tipsy and tired, their brains in this particular haze that end-of-parties sometimes enables... This was a lot. Too much, maybe. Fenris hadn't even let himself look at Hawke's face directly, afraid the hurt and the anger that was probably in it might burn him.

When Hawke finally spoke, his voice was but a whisper, and Fenris only caught it because the road under the balcony was so quiet at this time of day.

"How are you?"

It wasn't small talk. There was genuine concern, in his tone, in the way he'd whispered the words.

 _I don't deserve concern_ , Fenris thought, looking at the road fixedly. After all, he was the one who had messed it all up by leaving, without as much as an explanation.

"I'm good," he answered, roughly. Rougher than he meant it to come out.

At his side, he felt Hawke shrink into himself as a sigh left his body.

They stayed silent for a little while, until Fenris couldn't take it anymore. Still not looking at Hawke, he said in a shuddering voice:

"Why?"

"Why what?" asked Hawke without missing a beat.

"Why do you care? Why do you stick around? I don't– I don't– deserve you worrying about me. I've lost that privilege when–."

He didn't finish his sentence. Hawke knew. And he was looking at him, now, Fenris could somewhat sense it in his peripheral vision: Hawke had turned his body towards him.

Hawke breathed in deeply, and then a soft chuckle escaped his mouth. A sad chuckle. Fenris, startled by his reaction, squeezed his hoodie's string harder between his fingers.

"Look at me. _Please_ ," said Hawke.

Fenris's jaw stiffened. He wasn't sure he could take it. Guilt had been twisting his gut for months now, and looking into the very eyes of the person he'd hurt so badly seemed impossible.

He heard Hawke shift before he felt them. Fingers on his cheek. Feather light, warmer than his own skin, shaking a little bit. Fenris's eyes fluttered shut, and he felt tears prickling at his eyelids.

"Why?" he asked again, almost a whine.

Hawke's fingers dropped from his cheek to his jaw, still trembling slightly. Fenris turned his head instinctively, leaning into it, his eyelids shut tightly against the tears that threatened to escape

"I still care, Fenris."

Hawke's voice broke when he pronounced his name, a sound as though he'd just swallowed back a sob. Hawke's fingers were still tracing the outlines of Fenris's features, so light Fenris almost convinced himself he was dreaming it. Just a trick of the wind, and the euphoria from Varric's party.

But then he opened his eyes, and Hawke was here, so real, so close, radiating warmth. His face expressed so many conflicting emotions at once, as his eyes fluttered across Fenris's face. Right eye. Left eye. Mouth. His own hand, back on his cheek now. Mouth. Hair. Right eye. Left eye. Mouth.

Fenris couldn't even process the words he'd just heard. Still care. Hawke still cared. His mind should have been celebrating, but instead he was stuck in an endless loop of _why, why, why, why_.

And Hawke was so close, and Fenris had almost forgotten the smell of him. It's one of the things that had always most attracted him to Hawke, and he'd become so familiar to it, before it was all ripped away from him, because of his own actions. And now it was here again. _So close._

And he desperately wanted to kiss Hawke. Like he'd wanted every single day since he left. Every time Hawke has wandered in his thoughts, which was far more often than sanity allowed.

But he couldn't. He had forfeited the right to kiss Hawke then. So instead he clenched his jaw tighter, knowing that Hawke could see his eyes become wet with frustration.

When one of the tears he'd been holding back finally rolled down his right cheek, Hawke wiped it with the tip of his thumb. When another one tumbled down his left cheek, Hawke closed the space between their faces and he kissed it clean. Warm lips burning Fenris's skin, so terribly soft that Fenris shivered.

Hawke kissed him again, on the forehead. Burning still, lingering, both his hands cupping Fenris's face. And then he kissed his nose, thumbs brushing Fenris's cheeks lightly, but with more assurance than before.

He rested his forehead against Fenris's.

"You hurt me," he said, voice broken and low, and Fenris made a choked sound. "And I think I hurt you. We're both... Damaged. But I think we can fix this. I want to believe we can fix this."

A strangle noise escaped Fenris's throat in spite of himself, and he realised he'd been holding onto Hawke's arms, fingers digging in the fabric of his shirt. He pulled. Not that he could really pull Hawke any closer than he was; it was more of an encouraging motion. He didn't think he could find the words, not right now. All he could do was pull on Hawke's sleeves.

And he got the message, apparently, because the hands cupping Fenris's cheeks finally, truly held him, firmly, and Hawke's lips found Fenris's.

For a second, all that Fenris could think was how warm they were. Burning against his own cold lips. Wet from his tears. Oddly familiar. And desperate.

 _Hawke wants to fix this_ , he finally realised. _He still cares._

He kissed Hawke back, and it felt so natural, despite everything, despite the tears still rolling down his cheeks, despite his hands shaking on Hawke's arms, so obvious and easy, that he felt a knot form in his throat. A knot like a sob trying to escape.

Fenris didn't sob very often. He weeped fairly easily, but he could count on one hand the number of time he'd actually been upset enough to sob.

But that night, at three in the morning, on Varric's balcony, with Hawke kissing him, careful and tender and _hopeful_, Fenris could feel this sob-shaped knot push against his throat. A lump he didn't know how to get rid of. So he kissed Hawke harder, wanting to wrap his hands around him, but knowing they weren't quite there yet, it would be too much, for both of them.

Hawke, on his part, was also aching to get closer to Fenris's body; but he knew he couldn't. What had happened that night, what mess Fenris's brain had created to make him leave, Hawke didn't know; but he knew he could not, in any way, risk it again. There was a lot of conversations to be had. There would be explanations. They would need to move slow, so much slower than they'd had before.

But for now, this was good. Hawke could handle not touching Fenris anywhere beside his face. And Fenris could deal with the knot in his throat. Because this was so good. This felt so _right_. Like puzzle pieces finally falling into place.

"I still care too," Fenris said, voice strangled, between kisses. "I care so much."

Hawke groaned, incapable of forming words.

"I want to fix this," Fenris added, and the knot in his throat shrunk a bit. "I want to fix this. I'm sorry."


End file.
